


from a different hand

by ghoultown



Series: from a different hand [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassins & Hitmen, Forced Execution, Hitman Ryan, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Beatings, Mentions of Blood, Minor Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, Protective Ryan, Rules, Ryan Bergara In Love, Ryan has to kill Shane because they love each other, Shane Being an Asshole, Shane is an asshole even when he's about to get murked, Shane is such a bottom, Supportive Shane, Threats of Violence, True Love, kind of, there's comfort at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: ryan was supposed to kill shane six months ago. but he didn't. and now he has to.prompt: “you were assigned to kill me and then we kind of fell for each other but your boss found us out and if you don’t kill me right now he’s going to kill your family oh God just please kill me stop crying just save your damn family”or, the one where shane gets beaten up and is still the best boyfriend ryan could ever ask for





	1. After

**Author's Note:**

> graphic violence warning is just to be safe, but there is no description of major violence, just some description of what happens after. 
> 
> also i hope you like this. i think shane supporting ryan in this way is super badass (although maybe unhealthy?)

For months, Ryan had thought he had escaped this. Months of happiness in motel rooms across the nation, months of going to work early and leaving late with someone waiting for him. The bliss of inclusion. It was wonderful and safe and warm in Shane's arms. It always had been.

But now, it was time to face the consequences. He didn't know it when he walked in here, his jacket hiding his weapon and his scowl hid the happiness beating the other side of his teeth, screaming to get out. The red and white checker tiles were alarming to his eyes, the smell of breakfast food overwhelming his senses. He had to be strong though. He had to quit, he had to end this.

There were suited men everywhere. One in each table, one in each booth. Men were standing behind the employee doors. There was most likely a gun held to the wait staff's heads, but Ryan kept his face frozen.

"Sit down." His boss was chiseled and rough, never once showing his teeth when he wasn't speaking. "We've got matters to discuss."

"Of course," Ryan sunk into the cold chair, placing his wrists on the table. The red table was burning his eyes under the fluorescent lights. "Another hit?"

"To be made. Although, I hear from sources that you're nearing the end of your run with us." The voice was rough, the eyes were hard. Ryan still didn't know. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Yes, sir. I've got to return to normalcy, at some point. I've made the money I needed to support my family," Ryan said quietly. "One more hit shouldn't be a problem though, sir."

"It shouldn't."

Ryan shook his head. "No, sir. Not at all."

His boss raised a hand to no one in particular. "Grab us a coffee." Ryan didn't move his eyes from the man sitting in front of him, though he saw a blur of black move past him. The doors were shrill as they squeaked back and forth. There was a mumble and then a scream behind the door, and the suit returned with two mugs. Ryan's had a red hand print on the handle. He drank it anyway.

"If I may ask," Ryan said carefully, "Why such a public place?"

"We've got it under control, Bergara." The man took a sip of his coffee. "I will say. You were an excellent addition to the team."

"Well, I'm not quite leaving yet, sir. I want to be of help for as long as I can," Ryan said. It seemed like something he should say. His phone vibrated in his pocket again. Once, twice, three times. He ignored it; he had told Shane he was going to a meeting. Nothing could be that important that Shane should try to destroy his plans.

The man chuckled monotonously. "You see, that's why you were my favorite, Bergara. Always ready to kill, always asking how high. We need more of you around here, you know?"

Ryan gave a nod.

"But, there were rules. Rules that I have made abundantly clear shall not be broken in any circumstances, and I worry that you may have broken a most important one."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, "Sir? I... am confused. I memorized the rules, I dream about them every night. How in the world would I bring myself to break them?"

"Are you questioning me?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Good," his boss pushed his mug away. "Do you remember your assignment to a Mr. Shane Madej approximately six months ago?"

"Yes, sir?" Ryan looked confused, but his stomach was throbbing and his heart wasn't beating anymore. "I drug him into the ocean upon request."

"Without a souvenir from the body, per also requested, or some proof that he was killed." There was a clatter in the kitchen. "Do you know what that does, Bergara?"

Ryan was silent, not quite ready to give up yet.

"Raises suspicion. In myself, and in your comrades. You are a model to these men. You understand this?"

"Yes, sir." Ryan pressed his wrists further into the edge of the table. His phone rang, he immediately silenced it.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, Bergara?" His boss peered forward, "Someone needs you awfully bad, it seems."

"No, sir. Just my family," Ryan assured him. "I apologize."

"No need to worry."

Ryan breathed out and nodded. "Of course. Thank you, sir."

"All good men need support. You are a good man," his boss said. Ryan would often take this as a compliment, but it was the way he said it. It wasn't a compliment. It was a transition.

"What do you mean?"

"January 24th, you walked out into broad daylight and met a Mr. Shane Madej. You asked him to coffee, you poisoned him and threw him into the sea. Shane Madej is... what, nearly 7 feet tall?"

"... Correct, sir."

His boss leaned forward, his palms on the table. "You think we wouldn't notice a 7 foot tall man out in the world?"

Ryan's eyebrows moved together, but his heart was in his toes.

"Sir?"

"You think we wouldn't notice a 7 foot tall man walk into a motel lobby three hours ago to renew a reservation?"

Ryan's throat was closing, but he let out one final, solemn, "... Sir...?"

"You think we would let this 7 foot tall man, pronounced dead by you six months ago, live?"

Ryan looked to the suited man who emerged from the back of the kitchen. The counter was obscuring his view of the bottom half of the man, but as soon as he turned the corner...

He was dragging Shane by the hair. Beaten and unconscious, leaving a trail of blood across the checkered floor. Wearing Ryan's shirt and a pair of sweatpants they bought together on their first date.

"Who do you think we are, Bergara? Fools?"

"No, sir." Ryan stayed seated as the suited man dropped Shane's head to the floor, his skull clattering against the tile. Shane was just two feet away from him, chest heaving stuttering breaths through clearly broken ribs.

"You know the rules," his boss's voice was close to his ear now. "You've got them memorized. What do you think happens now?"

"... May I wait for him to wake up, please?"

"Yes. You get a formal goodbye. You're entitled to it. But that's just because I like you, and because you've done so good for years," his boss's voice retracted, "... but then I decide what to do with you."

It took twenty minutes and a bucket of ice water to wake Shane up. He sputtered, choking on the fluid in his lungs and the blood in his mouth, turning onto his side and pressing his face against the cold ground, his skin burning through the ice. Ryan shifted, as if he were going to jump up and comfort Shane, but he knew not to. He knew his boss had a gun under the table, cocked and ready.

When Shane finally opened the one eye that wasn't swollen all to hell, he found Ryan's eyes and smiled. Fucking smiled. It was shaky from pain and bloody red, but it was a smile.

"Hey Ry," Shane rasped. "Is it time, yet?"

"Time for what?" Ryan asked. His eyes were finally beginning to blur.

"Time. For me," Shane lifted a cut-up hand to gesture to the closest suited man he could find. "For all of this."

"I've got a few minutes to talk to you," Ryan whispered. He finally went to stand, to walk over coolly, to pull out his gun and explain things, but he couldn't. His legs buckled and he practically crawled the two feet to see Shane. To touch him. To tuck his longer hair behind his ear and breathe a shaky sigh out of his mouth. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Shane asked, and if he hadn't been so bruised on the outside, Ryan would have never known that he was in pain. "This all came with you. I got the package deal. I'm fine."

"I..." Ryan looked over Shane's body, so small on the floor, "The rules..."

"I know, Ry. I've heard 'em over and over. You cry 'em in your sleep," Shane smiled, his lips so chapped and so close to splitting. "It's me or your family. And I know who you choose. We planned for this, remember?"

"I wasn't supposed to cry," Ryan frowned with tight lips. He touched Shane's hair so gently. "I don't want your last view of me to be like this."

"I think you look hot," Shane said, his voice cracking. Ryan's boss chuckled behind him. Shane laid his head back down and closed his eyes. "Mmh."

"Shane, I... if I had to choose between you and anyone else, I'd choose you in a heartbeat, but... it's my family, I - "

"I know," Shane whispered, eyes shut still. Blood just kept slowly dripping out of the side of his mouth. "I know, Ryan. It's okay. I'm ready."

"No, you're supposed to say you're mad at me or upset and you're supposed to cry," Ryan whispered.

"Told ya, Ry." Shane opened an eye. "Package deal."

Ryan heard a gun cock behind him. It moved into his periphery. His boss was handing him the execution gun. He sniffed and took it, pushing himself to stand. "I love you so much."

"You too, Ryan." Shane said, contentedly. "It was all worth it."

Ryan held the gun in his shaky hands, his arms settling into gunman stance.

"I hope to God no one gets to hold you like I did, though," Shane added with a smile. "I'm selfish like that, I guess."

Ryan sniffed and placed his finger on the trigger.

"Love you, love you, love you," Shane whispered, his hands contracting into fists.

Ryan pulled the trigger.

A small click.

Shane's head was still intact.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You owe me," came the voice of his boss behind him. "Ten more years of assignments and I'll let you go. No personal body count, no executions. You're the model."

Ryan just watched as the gun was pulled out of his hands. There was the rumble of a million dress shoes on tile as the suits left. The boss in front, the minions in tow. The bell rang as the door opened, and the bell stopped when it closed.

Shane was just laying there, silently, a look of peace on his face.

"Shane..." Ryan whispered as the shock settled into his jaw. "Shane."

"Am I in hell?" Shane murmured through half-closed lips. "Can I meet the man in charge?"

"No," Ryan leaned down and buried his hands underneath Shane, lifting him up into his arms. Shane groaned and hissed as his body was moved. "You're still here with me."

"Did you miss?" Shane asked indignantly. "You make fun of the size of my head all the time. What the hell kind of hitman...."

"They're gone, Shane."

"Oh," Shane opened an eye. Ryan began to carry him outside. "Shit. I love you."

"I love you too. He called an ambulance. It'll be here soon," Ryan pushed the door open with his hip. Ten black cars pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"The hitmen boss called an ambulance for me?" Shane would have blushed if all of the blood he had wasn't leaking through his mouth or into his organs. "That's so sweet."

"I think he likes you," Ryan admitted.

"D'aww," Shane whispered hoarsely. He clutched Ryan's lapel with a bloody hand, "Is it almost here? I can't be charming for much longer."

"Yes, baby. It's almost here," Ryan was crying openly now. "Just stay awake for me. Everything's going to be okay."

"Everything's going to be okay," Shane repeated. He could hear sirens through the pounding of his heart in his ears.


	2. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prequel chapter; a chronology of the boys meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i realize this is kind of a fucked AU but i'm not goin back on it. badass awkward shane owns my soul.

It wasn't lost on Ryan that this was going to be an easy job. That was the issue; it was such an easy job that it should have been given to someone else. He was slowly rising, climbing up the ranks, using those around him as easy stairs to being the Best in the Biz. Maybe he shouldn't have been proud about it, but he was nonetheless.

41 contract kills in his career of nearly five years. That was pretty good. He wasn't proud, but he had a bit of an ego. Some jobs, you need one.

"Shane Madej, thirty two years old." Ryan looked over the picture with narrow eyes, tilting it this way and that. Looking for a trace of evil or worthiness of his fate. "Has the same route to and from work everyday. Simple routine. Should take you no time."

"Then... why?" Ryan looked up at his boss, "I don't mean to question you, but this... this guy is white bread, personified."

"He can't keep his mouth shut," the words escaped through the opening in his boss' grin. "Stumbled across the Iceman last week and had a few things to say about the weather."

"Yikes," Ryan said, though he still didn't quite understand. "So, the Iceman called it in?"

"Not quite." Another picture was slid across the table. It was joined by another picture. And another. "The market is growing mainstream. Every hipster and their mother has access to contractors like us. Mr. Madej, apparently, rubs a lot of people the wrong way."

Ryan spread the pictures out across the table, "And who are they to him?"

"Coworkers."

Ryan hissed. "Poor guy."

"Is this going to be a _problem_ , Bergara?"

"No, sir," Ryan scooped up the pictures. "Should take me two minutes to finish, really. But build up is key, right?"

"Build up is key." He received a curt nod, and then the big man was standing and gesturing for Ryan to stand as well. "I expect approximate timelines by Sunday. Got it?"

"Affirmative."

Needless to say, Ryan loses sleep over this man. The picture of him is so... normal. Khaki pants, brown boots, a t-shirt messily tucked into the front; long legs astride as he crosses the street just miles away from Ryan's apartment - he'd killed people near that crosswalk. Fuck. Shane's coworkers had unanimously called him in, sent forms and money to personally pay for his murder. Coworkers. People he worked with, who sat next to him and shook his hand and gave him feedback on normal paperwork. What a shitty deal.

After hours of tossing and turning, the still image of one man causing him ridiculous amounts of distress, Ryan rolled out of his bed and dug through his bag, grabbing his laptop and notebook.

-

Shane Madej, 32 years old, 6' 4", never married. Shane Madej, upwards of two siblings, two parents, good life in Illinois before moving haphazardly to California to Get Away For Awhile. Shane Madej, undeserving of what was coming to him.

-

Ryan followed Shane for several days in the week of November 13th. He would park outside of Shane's measly apartment building, sketch triangles on the inside of his wrist with a pen until Shane appeared from the doorway, striding across the pavement with more leg than anyone could ever need. Ryan would wait until he turned the corner to put his car in gear and follow.

Shane bought coffee from the same place everyday. He took the same number of steps, he wore basically the same warm ensemble. It was shameful how easy this was. Of course it was, there was no reason for Shane to be secretive or careful, he wasn't aware that so many people in his inner circle held such hatred for him.

On the 21st, Ryan found himself walking into California Bean Company with cash in hand and a warm jacket on his shoulders that he knew, just knew that Shane owned. He stood directly behind the tall man - much taller than the picture could have prepared him for - and toyed with his phone, making enough noise to be noticed.

"Hey." His voice was deep with grogginess. "I have that."

"What?" Ryan looked up, his head tilted, his hand holding limply to his phone. "Have what?"

"That jacket," Shane said, pointing with a lazy index finger. "Really comfy, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ryan swayed a bit, as if he was testing it out. He met Shane's eyes and his stomach twisted until it was taut with stress. "It is."

Shane nodded once and smiled awkwardly, "Don't know why I told you that. Sorry."

"No problem," Ryan said with a smile. Shane nodded again and turned on his heel to face the front.

Ryan didn't know what to do with this man. He wasn't a douche so far, he was attractive and seemingly as normal as they come.

Shane was leaving before Ryan could do anything about it. He decided to get a coffee and chill anyway. Shane would be back for a lunchtime pick-me-up. He settled down in the corner, visible from the front door, and mindlessly tapped through Shane's pictures on social media. He was a nut. After about the millionth picture of a Star Wars figure on his desk, Ryan decided he couldn't do this.

"You're still here."

Ryan looked up from his phone, locking it before Shane could see his screen. "Yes."

"Huh." Shane checked the time on his watch. It was so docile. "You okay, bud?"

"... Yes?" Ryan's eyebrows drew together. "Why?"

"Well, that jacket? The one that the both of us own?" Shane pointed at Ryan for the second time that day. "I call her the Hangover Jacket."

Ryan nodded slowly, "Huh." That made a lot of sense, actually. He wore it quite a lot.

"If you need any Excedrin, I think I have a few loose pills in my wallet," Shane shrugged and paused, waiting for something.

"I'll make sure to find you if I need any," Ryan said with a smile. Shane's shoulders relaxed.

"Well, sorry for entering your space. I was just making sure," Shane took a few reluctant steps back.

"You can sit here, if you want." Ryan wrapped an arm around his coffee and phone, pushing them closer to himself. "If strangers don't freak you out."

"As one stranger to the other, I appreciate the company." Shane hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna grab something. You want anything?"

"I'm good," Ryan said, picking up his cup as if to prove his statement. Shane nodded in understanding before disappearing around the half-divider to go to the cash register.

Shane got him a scone anyway. Ryan ate all of it.

-

"Ugh," Shane looked at the time with a groan. "I've got to go to work."

"That's fine," Ryan offered, folding the wax paper from his treat up and tucking it into his wallet. For safekeeping. "I hope I wasn't keeping you too long."

"I wish you could keep me for longer," Shane sighed, a few strands of hair resting on his forehead fluttering up and back down.

"Work that bad?" _You have no idea._

"Maybe not. But I'm ungrateful for the blessings of adulthood," Shane began to slide out of the booth, tucking his phone in his front pocket. "Nice meeting you, Ryan. Thanks for putting up with my shenanigans."

"You made it easy," Ryan shrugged.

Shane gave him a soft smile. He began to walk toward the exit, but made a circle and came back. "Are you going to be back tomorrow?"

"Depends on why you're asking," Ryan pulled his phone closer to his person. For no particular reason.

"Are my shenanigans easy enough to deal with another day?" Shane asked, placing his hand on his hip before deciding it was too awkward and slipping his hand into his pocket.

"Shane-anigans."

"I'm taking that as two yeses." Shane said, too shocked to laugh. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow, Shane."

-

 _"The timeline you sent is incredibly detailed."_ Ryan could hear pages flipping and turning in the background of the call. _"More than your usual reports."_

"I felt it was appropriate this time," Ryan said, fixing his hair in the mirror with his free hand. "I tried to figure out if there was some dirt way back when that I could pin it on."

_"And nothing?"_

"Nothing. Cleaner than... air?"

_"Sure. Thank you, Bergara. Do you have an ETA, yet?"_

"Mid-January," Ryan said, writing it down on a sticky note and placing it on his mirror. "I'll give you a precise date and time as soon as I figure out what's going on with his family."

_"Nice work."_

-

"You're here!" Ryan jumped as the enthusiastic voice piped up behind him.

"So are you," he watched as Shane sat across from him, sliding a scone across the table. "Here ya go."

"You didn't need to do that," Ryan said, unwrapping it anyway.

"Kinda did. Consider that your payment for dealing with all this," Shane's hands drew a box around his torso.

"Nice compensation," Ryan said around a bite.

Shane chuckled and nodded, "I suppose."

Their knees were touching under the table and Ryan was unsure how to feel.

"Don't you have work?"

"I took off. They don't need me today," Shane shrugged. "I wanted to see if you would actually show. And you did."

"I did," Ryan said with a smile. "Are you doing okay, today?"

"Pretty decent. At least the day didn't start out with a rejection?" Shane turned his coffee cup a few times on the table, the paper scraping against the surface. "You?"

"Same," Ryan was all smiles. "It's a good day for coffee and companionship."

Shane looked at him curiously, "What an odd thing to say."

"What did you expect?"

"I expected you to say "Same" and then an awkward silence would fall," Shane leaned on his elbows. "But thankfully, you're not very normal."

 _You have no idea,_ Ryan thought for a second time. "Thank you, Shane."

"You're very welcome, Ryan."

They exchanged numbers before they parted for a second time. Ryan didn't say that he already had Shane's number. They texted about absolutely nothing for hours.

-

"Oh." Ryan kept a hand on the plastic casing of the handle as he turned, the cart squeaking. He met eyes with Shane, who had a loaf of bread under his arm and a bottle of vodka in his hand. "Ryan."

"That's me," Ryan said, unmoving. He glanced at Shane's trove, "You doing okay?"

"... Yes. You see, this is for..." Shane looked down at himself, trying to see if he could get away with a lie, "... yeah, this is for me. Because I'm a mess."

"That's quite alright." Ryan offered. "We all are."

Shane let out a surprised laugh. "Quite philosophical for 5 pm on a Tuesday, Ryan."

"Maybe," Ryan pointed to the shelf over Shane's shoulder. "Can you grab that?"

"Oh, sure." Shane handed the jar to Ryan, who sent him a relieved smile.

"You doing anything after this?" Ryan asked, maybe emboldened by the fact that Shane looked completely lost in a ten-aisle shop.

"Um?" Shane looked around, "I don't know. I'm pretty busy."

Ryan tilted his head, "Really?"

"No, Ryan." Shane deadpanned, "I'm never too busy for you."

"Right." That might have knocked the confidence right out of his chest. "Well, if you want to come over. With me, you can."

"To your house?"

"... Yes."

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see anyone," Shane smiled, "I wasn't prepared to be, uh. Charming."

"No worries." Ryan regrouped, "Put your shit in the cart and help me reach things."

"Yes, sir." Shane saluted with the vodka, accidentally knocking it against his forehead. "Ow, _fuck_."

Ryan rolled his eyes pointedly. _Very charming._ "C'mon, Shane."

-

Ryan entered first, throwing his groceries down. He found himself dashing quickly to his desk and shoving all of the pictures of Shane and his traitorous coworkers into his drawers. He should have thought this through. Shane stumbled after him, looking perplexed.

"Sorry, I forgot this place was a mess."

"Eh, you should see my place," Shane said, looking around the corners of the ceiling. "I forget if I have carpet or hard floors."

"Is that an invitation?" Ryan leaned on his desk and Shane paused, his chin dropping parallel to the floor.

"Maybe?" Shane shrugged, placing his own grocery bag (a sad thing, indeed) by his feet. "I don't know. I've never gone home with someone immediately following a grocery outing."

"Well, no offense, but I don't plan to fuck you."

"That's absolutely fine." Shane said, returning his gaze to the ceiling. "I don't smell great."

"You're correct." Ryan pulled himself up onto his desk, "Do you just... not do anything over the weekend?"

"Yep. I usually just hibernate until Sunday night and fix myself," Shane's hands slipped into his pockets. "Of course, I haven't had a reason to leave my place since you came along, so. Apparently, I'm gonna need to change that."

"Certainly. You should shower."

"I didn't? Bring a change of clothes?"

"I've got some for you." Ryan gestured to nothing in particular, a motion of promise. He didn't tell Shane that he'd expected Shane to stumble his way for a week now, didn't tell Shane that he'd wanted to see every part of him for a week now. That he'd bought clothes in preparation for this want he'd had. For a week now. "You seem like the kind of guy who wears flannels this time of year."

"More like all year," Shane said. "Yes. Thank you. Where is your...?"

"Right there." Ryan pointed to the bathroom. "There's an extra toothbrush, too."

"I feel attacked," Shane padded toward the white door in question, "but I deserve it."

-

Ryan finds himself talking to Shane very often. Shane doesn't invite himself over, and he certainly doesn't coax Ryan to his apartment, but they send nearly 1,000 texts a day and Shane has made a habit of calling to tell him about the most mundane things. Ryan wasn't accustomed to this. It was so odd, but he couldn't help but play along.

Ryan was sharpening his knife at his desk staring at the faces of Shane's coworkers, especially puzzled by their plight when he now knew Shane to be the most wonderful human to ever walk the face of the earth, when his phone rang for the third time that day. He pressed the green button and set it to speaker, picking up a rag to clean the table.

"Hey," Ryan said. He was beyond the mindset that every time one called, they were in trouble. Shane was hardly someone who got in trouble. "What's up, Shane?"

_"Did you know that cotton candy ice cream exists?"_

"... No."

_"I'm at this really sketchy place and they're advertising it in the window and I think I'm gonna get it."_

"Shane, if it's a sketchy place, be careful. You could get poisoned," Ryan closed the bottom drawer of his desk with his foot. The drawer with the poison. "It's winter, anyway. Why are you getting ice cream?"

_"I don't know. This establishment looks like it'll close down any second so I wanna make sure I get cotton candy as soon as possible."_

"Seems logical," Ryan ran the blade across the wood of the desk. Somehow still dull. "If you start feeling queasy, go to the hospital."

_"Yeah, like I'm gonna drive myself to the hospital when I'm full of poison."_

"Or, maybe don't eat poisoned ice cream."

 _"Maybe don't tell me how to live my life."_ There was a faint bell in the background. _"I'm going in."_

"You're an idiot."

_"But your idiot, probably."_

_In a way,_ Ryan thought.

"Get home safe."

Admittedly, Shane had never gotten food poisoning from ice cream before, but he made sure to call Ryan when he got home to broadcast the fact that his stomach was trying to escape into open air through his esophagus.

"Jesus," Ryan said, grabbing his keys. "That bad?"

 _"Yes."_ Shane's voice was deep and wet through the receiver. _"I'm dying. I feel it. My lifeforce, fading."_

"Calm down, Shane. Where do you live?" Ryan was out the door and running down the stairs.

_"Uh?"_

"Shane, I'm coming to your place. I don't care how fucked it is. Okay? Send me your address."

_"Okay... I can't believe I have to clean my room while I'm dying."_

"Shane."

_"I'll send it."_

Ryan found Shane ten minutes later, unconscious in a ball next to his bed, laying in a pile of clean laundry. He rolled his eyes at Shane's reckless behavior (then again, no reason to worry about being reckless) and elevated his head, pouring somewhat of a chemical antidote between his lips.

He lifted Shane effortlessly onto his bed, pulling the flimsy shirt over Shane's head to cool the fever he was rocking. Shane had an ungodly amount of fans, so Ryan pointed them all at the pale body (not bad, though, it was a great pale body) on the mattress.

It became abundantly clear, in a moment of Ryan's panic, that this was the first time he'd saved someone in a long time.

-

Shane woke up safe and sound in Ryan's arms and he had a few questions, but his body seemed to be functioning again and he hadn't been held since he was a teenager so he said absolutely nothing.

Oh, except thank you. He thanked Ryan a few times.

-

_"Building up?"_

"Yes, sir," Ryan stepped into his pants, pulling them up and stumbling to grab his shoes. "Building up slowly and steadily."

 _"You've got a month left. The holidays are upcoming, so this will be the last_ check in _you've got."_

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Whas' that?" Shane spoke, tired voice muffled in his pillow. Ryan looked over at him with a glare and Shane shut up.

_"Have a wonderful Christmas with your family, Bergara. You deserve it."_

"Thank you, sir. Merry Christmas."

"That was work." Ryan hung up the phone and tucked it into his jeans, "My boss isn't very sweet, so please keep your mouth shut when I'm on the phone."

"Gotcha," Shane rolled over on his back and watched Ryan, "You're leaving?"

"You've got work," Ryan said. _Also, I've got to go make some more antidote because your giant body drained my supply._

"Yeah, but not right now?" Shane gestured to himself, "I think I could legally call in sick for a week after getting poisoned."

Ryan looked at him, "And who told you not to poison yourself? Hm?"

Shane shrugged, "It was good. Tasty poison."

"I can't believe you," Ryan said, heading toward the door.

"Please don't be mad." There was a warm hand on his bicep and Ryan turned to look up at him. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll listen next time."

"Mhm." Ryan wasn't used to this kind of bubbly feeling in his stomach. Shane was staring at him so earnestly, it made Ryan feel valued.

"I'm just not used to people seriously taking my health seriously," Shane offered a smile, but it dropped. "I'll take care of myself, better."

"Thank you."

Shane nodded and dropped his hand. "Please stay?"

Ryan looked at his feet, "I dunno. I've got some chores."

"Yeah, but I'd like to think I'm more interesting than chores."

"Maybe." Ryan rolled up on his toes and took Shane's lips in a kiss. Shane gasped into Ryan's mouth but allowed himself to be (quite literally) thrown back onto the mattress.

"Jesus, Ryan."

"This is what you get." Ryan said, kicking all of his clothes off again.

Shane raised his eyebrows. " _Jesus_."

-

Ryan found himself leading Shane to his own bed many more times than he thought to count. He wanted to say to himself that it was just a release of stress, that he'd never had this chance before, that it had been awhile since he'd felt attraction and he needed to take this chance.

But it was more than that. He knew that.

Shane gave him praise, breathy and real in his ear, held him tight and made jokes (jokes!) when Ryan was deeper in him than any other human on earth would dare to reach. Shane was tall and pliable and, after everything was done, Ryan could feel absolutely no regret settling like stone in his belly. He would feel Shane against him and feel kisses on his neck and warmth everywhere around him. No cynicism, no reminders that he was a Killer and he would Always Be A Killer and No One Loves A Killer.

Shane did.

Ryan needed to tell him. What he was getting into.

-

"Merry Christmas, Ryan!" Shane was in his entrance, an unwrapped Amazon package in his hands, a scarf wrapping around his neck (no doubt, to cover the dark proof of Ryan's mouth).

"Oh, hey." Ryan said, thankful that the blood on his hands were obstructed by the doorframe. Shane was just looking at his face with a blindingly genuine smile. "Can you... wait here for a sec?"

"Yep," Shane said, bowing. "I'll be here."

"Alright." Ryan closed the door and sprinted to the bathroom, rinsing his hands and dragging the shower curtain to obstruct the body in the tub. Sure, he was on a job, but his boss had required a very quick cover-up last minute. Merry Christmas. He changed his shirt and tossed all traces of death into the hall closet, locking it.

"Hey," he said, opening the door and ushering Shane in. "How are you?"

"I'm feeling pretty jolly." Shane said.

"That's good. Really good. Look," Ryan said, rubbing his hands together. "We can't... do anything, today. Like sexual. My... shower is broken."

"That's fine. I don't come over here just to take advantage of you. Or, for you to take advantage of me?" Shane squinted at himself. "Anyway. Yeah, I don't mind. I just wanted to give you this."

"Thanks." Ryan took the gargantuan box from Shane. "I... didn't get you anything. Sorry."

"It's fine! No worries, Ryan. I figured I should just give you a lil' thank you for putting up with my Shane-anigans." Shane shrugged. "You doing anything tonight?"

"Yeah, actually. Visiting my family."

"Right." Shane nodded. Ryan waited for Shane to continue, to talk about his own plans, but he didn't.

"Well, thanks. Again."

"No problem," Shane said, turning to leave. He made it to the door before Ryan caught up with him, kissing him.

"I'm sorry," Ryan said, and he meant it. He actually meant it. "I didn't think. It's been awhile since I've dated someone."

"It's really okay, Ry. Don't worry! I figured it would be weird, but then I did it anyway." Shane messed with his scarf. "Seems like something I do a lot."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed with a smile. "Thank you, really. First present of the holiday. Congrats."

"Awesome," Shane said. He stole another kiss, too quick to be savored, before disappearing down the hallway.

-

Ryan was sitting with his family when he saw that Shane had posted another picture on Instagram. He opened the image, ready to see some dorky family portrait or Star Wars screenshot, but instead it was just a picture of the table in the coffee shop they sat together in when they first met, probably the only place open on Christmas, with one coffee and a scone placed across from him, most likely just in case Ryan would show up.

The caption was: _love me a coffee christmas f_ _or one._

Ryan felt something twist in his gut but he decided not to call. Neither did Shane.

-

"What's this?" Shane said around his toothbrush, voice slurred and numb with mint. He pressed the pad of his finger to the corner of the sticky note that was still on Ryan's mirror as a reminder of who he was, what he had to do.

Ryan stood in the doorway. "That's when I'm gonna kill you."

Shane laughed and nodded, returning his gaze to his own reflection, "Nice. January. Good month to die."

Ryan walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, pressing his cold cheek against Shane's warm back. "Is it really?"

"I think so." Shane's back muscles tensed as he bent to spit. "Ringing in the new year with a death. Makes it memorable."

"I guess."

-

"Happy New Year!" Ryan yelled over the noise of the bar, cowering in the corner near the bathrooms, his phone pressed against his face.

 _"Happy New Year, Ryan,"_ came Shane's voice through the receiver. _"Got your resolutions?"_

"I don't make them. They're dumb."

_"Huh, I figured you'd be a stickler for them."_

Ryan ignored it. He might have been a bit tipsy. "What are you doing? Where are you?"

 _"_ Home like _always, dummy. Watching the He-Man Christmas special on loop until I pass out. You seem to be having fun."_

"I'm coming to get you." Ryan stumbled toward the door, pushing past couples and random people interlocked in each other.

_"Don't drive drunk, Ryan. I'll come over in the morning and we can do all the fun celebratory fuck stuff."_

"No, I need to see you," Ryan said. The cold hit his face and shocked his skin. "I'll get a cab."

 _"Awwww,"_ Shane gushed over the phone, _"Ryan, you miss me?"_

"Yes."

_"I'll unlock everything."_

Two hours later, Ryan was falling into Shane's arms, alcohol mixing with the memories full of murder and gore and regret and it was a deadly concoction because Ryan was crying in seconds and Shane was wondering if he'd done anything to cause this.

"I love you," Ryan said.

Shane blinked at him in the dim light of the entrance. "I love you _too_ , Ryan."

-

"Hey, do you want to spend the night tonight?" Shane asked, pushing the cart as Ryan placed actually healthy foods into the basket. Shane had begged him to help pick out food that wouldn't decrease his lifespan and Ryan was happy to assist.

"Sure," Ryan said shallowly. "We've got to stop by somewhere before we go back to your place, though."

"Okay," Shane said. He felt Ryan's hand on his hip and stopped moving, letting Ryan catch up and toss a box of something unknown in. "... Am I allowed to ask where?"

"I'll drive."

"Oh. Alright," Shane raised his eyebrows. "This is sketch."

"I'm always sketch."

"I suppose," Shane said. Ryan took over the controls and Shane followed wordlessly, only opening his mouth to try and pay but Ryan took that over as well. Shane was lying to himself if he hadn't noticed the quick shift between today and last week, when he'd heard Ryan tell him he loved him. That was pretty huge.

"Are you okay?" Shane found himself asking as they walked out to the parking lot, the cart rattling and screeching on the uneven pavement. He popped the trunk before handing Ryan the keys.

"Yeah, but I've just gotta do something." Ryan said. He walked ahead of Shane, only to adjust the steadily warming gun on his hip.

Today was as good a day as any. To ruin this.

The car ride was silent, save for the rumble of the road underneath the tires and Shane's occasional humming because he was growing nervous. They were driving further and further away from anywhere Shane could recognize, and there was a brief moment where Shane thought maybe he'd meet Ryan's family. But then, of course, Ryan pulled into the driveway of what seemed like the oldest and most abandoned building that's ever existed, and Shane figured he was wrong.

"Nice place," Shane said. Ryan didn't respond. Shane walked up to the front and opened the door, cringing at the sickening squeal of neglected hinges.

Ryan entered behind Shane with his weapon numbing and hot in his right hand. Shane kept his eyes up and around, making statements about the baroque nature of everything, making offhand jokes about how he "loved that the walls were peeling" and that it was a very "welcoming" atmosphere.

"So, what are we gonna do here?" Shane asked, turning to face Ryan, though his chin was still pointing toward the rotten ceiling. "Ghost hunt?"

"Not quite." Ryan cocked the gun and got Shane's attention. Shane moved, his head turning downwards, mouth open in a ready smile until... he looked down. The smile disappeared and he became blank.

"Oh." The breath left Shane in one word and he stood still. "That's a gun."

"Yeah."

"Well. I'm... not gonna move," Shane said, speaking his thoughts out loud as if to regroup and try to understand what was happening in front of him. But he knew what was happening.

"Okay. You don't have to."

"Alright," Shane nodded. Ryan was just a few feet from him, but he wish he'd stopped at the door. So he wouldn't have to see how wet Shane's eyes were getting, white glares appearing as it became abundantly clear who Ryan was.

Ryan wondered if he should aim. He wondered if there was some other way to go about this. But it was a bit late for a revelation.

He held the gun in two hands, his arms straight. Shane didn't move a muscle, looking between Ryan and the gun as if something might click into place. Shane blinked and wet trailed across his cheeks.

"Hey, so." Shane cleared his throat, frustrated at himself and his voice for being so damn shaky. "All this was, like. Just a murder thing. Right?"

Ryan's stare was cold over the black of his gun.

"The, uh. Dates. And the sleepovers. And stuff?" Shane felt the need to continue.

"Not really," Ryan's voice got caught in between his teeth.

"Okay." Shane nodded. "That makes me feel better."

"This would be easier if you'd just stop talking."

"I don't want to make this easy, Ryan." Shane said quietly, his breath uneven. "I don't want to die."

"What's the alternative?"

"... Living." Shane offered a smile but it crumbled as a silent sob wracked its way through his ribs. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Shane." Ryan shook his head, "I don't expect anything less."

Shane slipped his hands into his pockets and closed his eyes. Ryan dropped his arms to his sides without a word and watched him stand, ready to die at the hands of someone he so clearly loved.

"I'm not going to kill you."

"I think... I think you are?"

Ryan placed the gun on the ground and took a few steps forward. Shane blinked through his eyelids, confused and blind. Ryan let his hands run over Shane's arms, and the tall man winced.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, low and quiet. Shane opened an eye, then both of them. He looked down at Ryan, his eyes red and searching. "But I really need you to understand this."

"Okay," Shane said. His skin was hot under Ryan's palms. "I can do that."

"This is my job. And I love you, but there are consequences to not finishing a contract," Ryan whispered. "If they find out that you're still alive and kicking, they will kill my family, and I will not allow that. Under no circumstance will I ever hold anyone over my family. That includes you. Can you understand that?"

"Of course, Ryan." Shane said, his breathing evening out. "I don't care."

"You don't?"

"No, of course I don't." Shane shrugged. "You're good. I love you."

"I kill people."

"Bad people," Shane agreed.

"You're not bad."

"Well, clearly someone thinks so," Shane said, laughing solemnly. He looked around, allowing his hands to slip around the back of Ryan's neck. "When do I meet my demise, officially?"

"January 24th," Ryan said, a tear or two escaping. "But I'll help you."

Shane swallowed, his throat dry and his entire world crumbling. "Where will I go?"

"I'll show you. Just trust me." Ryan gripped Shane's biceps and the taller man's eyes fluttered closed. "It'll be okay. I'll be with you."

"I know," Shane said with a shaky smirk. "You're much more of a man than I am."

"That's flattering."

"Yeah."

-

The day of January 24th, Ryan Bergara invited Shane Madej out for coffee. He made a show of it, as he knew there were men planted across every street in seemingly every window, watching everything they did.

Ryan didn't hold Shane's hand the entire time and it made things a bit worse. He didn't want to hurt Shane. Sure, he could do worse, but Shane was so willing and able to allow Ryan to poison him - with a smile on his face, no less - and it was breaking Ryan down.

Ryan looked at Shane, the coffee warm in his hand. He spoke softly with a smile, as though he was talking about the weather. "I put a very low dose of poison in your coffee, okay?"

"Okay," Shane said, smiling, though his eyes were dull.

"You're going to have a reaction, very acute, and you might lose consciousness. But rest assured," Ryan reached out and placed his hand on Shane's shoulder. Shane leaned into the touch. "I'll be with you every step of the way, and no one else will touch you."

"That's very assuring," Shane nodded.

"They're watching. So I'm gonna need to look really cruel when you start to fake-die."

"I can handle that. You've tried to kill me before," Shane said conversationally, looking at a tree across the way and taking a sip as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

"I love you," Ryan said softly.

"I bet I love you more," Shane said. "Call me Juliet."

"No," Ryan said, laughing.

"Then I can call you - _fuck_ ," Shane clutched at his side and shook his head, "Fuck, something's happening."

"I'm gonna look like I'm saying something really rude and life-shattering, and I need you to sell this," Ryan said. He tossed his full cup to the side. His face contorted into a scowl, but his words were a polar opposite emotion, "I'm here, Shane. It's okay. You're going to be okay, I promise. Trust me. I love you."

"I love you too." A few tears fell from Shane's eyes. Ryan couldn't tell if they were Crocodile Actor's Tears or tears of pain, but Shane was doing great at acting betrayed and surprised. "I couldn't trust you any more than I do - "

Shane's words were cut off in a groan. His knees buckled and Ryan caught him, practically throwing him over his shoulder - "Hey, uh, you're fucking strong?" Shane said in a hoarse and shattered whisper - and lugging him to his car that was parked meters away in the least-populated alley he could name. It was lucky that Shane lived in the building next to a wonderful crime spot.

Ryan popped his trunk. "I'm putting you in the trunk now."

"I'm gonna die," Shane groaned quietly.

"Shut up."

"Is that any way to talk to your - _ow_ ," Shane grunted as Ryan tossed him onto the hard carpeting of his trunk.

"I'm gonna drive away until the coast is clear, then I'll let you sit in the back. Okay, baby?"

"Just hurry," Shane said, mouth pressed against the carpet. "I'm a wimp."

"You're really not. I would have thought you would have passed out at this point." Ryan closed the trunk and wiped his hands on the front of his pants. He turned and made eye contact with one of the men, who gave him a congratulatory gesture before disappearing from his post. They all did.

Ryan climbed into his car and gunned it. He heard Shane groan through the cushions and rolled his eyes. The things Shane was going through just to have a boyfriend. Ridiculous.

-

Shane squinted against the light as Ryan opened the trunk. He was seconds away from losing consciousness, his hair damp with sweat and his hands shaking violently at his sides.

"Hey, baby." Ryan reached in and picked Shane up, pulling him out of the cramped space. "You're okay. I've got you."

Shane could only make a noise of bitter relief as he was laid down in the backseat. Ryan crawled over him, prying his lips open and pouring the rest of his antidote stash into Shane's mouth. Shane's face screwed up.

"Doesn't taste great, I know, but it'll save you." Ryan said, petting Shane's wet hair back from his forehead. "Takes a second to kick in. You did great, baby, you're safe now."

Shane hummed, closing his mouth around the flask that Ryan held to his mouth. He looked up at Ryan, his eyes dilated to hell.

"You did so good." Ryan kissed Shane's temple, resting his forehead against Shane's shoulder.

"Feel better already," Shane said hoarsely, offering a smile to his murderer. "You okay?"

"Shut up, Shane. Are _you_?"

"I can feel my legs," Shane said. "So yes."

"Do you still want to be with me, after this?" Ryan brought himself up, moving to climb from Shane and give him space.

"Yes, stupid." Shane coughed, holding his hands out. Ryan pulled him into a sitting position. Shane groaned and stretched his arms, still shaky but getting stable. "I told you, I don't care. I love you."

"You're crazy."

"Me?" Shane gave Ryan a look, "C'mon, now."

Ryan relaxed, smiling. "How do you feel?"

"Better." Shane moved his fingers and let his feet touch the sidewalk. "I suppose near-death experiences are gonna be more frequent in my life, huh?"

"Not if I can help it." Ryan peered around the empty parking lot of an abandoned fast food chain that must have expired years ago. "But if they find out you're alive... that's something I can't really help you with."

Shane nodded, "I understand."

Ryan sighed, hands on his hips. He looked at Shane. "Do you really?"

"Yeah," Shane nodded. "You said it with the... uh, gun to my head. So I'll remember that forever."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position," Ryan said remorsefully. The sun was beating down on them like a spotlight, but Ryan trusted that the others wouldn't have followed him. Why would they? "But you're gonna need to be on the run for awhile."

"That's fine," Shane said. "As long as you're there, I'm good. You seem to know what you're doing."

"I don't."

"Nevermind, then." Shane leaned back in the seat, hands on his stomach. "Where to now?"

"I don't think you saw when you were back there, but I packed your stuff up while you were sleeping," Ryan said, gesturing to the trunk. "I've got enough cash for each of us to survive for a year."

Shane raised his eyebrows, lifting his head, "And that's all Killin' People money?"

"Sure," Ryan shrugged. "You and I are gonna be living in motels for a while, so I've been saving up."

Shane hummed. "This is kinda fucked."

"Yeah," Ryan said.

"But I can definitely say that this is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me," Shane pushed himself into the car fully before pausing, "Hold on. How do they know I'm dead?"

"I had a, uh..." Ryan scratched the back of his neck, "...buddy from the morgue. He hooked me up with a corpse that looked a bit like you."

"... Okay?"

"And I threw him into the ocean."

Shane let out a surprised laugh, "Holy shit, Ryan."

"What?"

"This is fucking insane. You are fucking insane."

"Yeah, but you're stuck with me."

Shane smiled before snapping his head to look at Ryan. "Did you pack my Hangover Jacket?"

"Of course."

-

Ryan brought Shane to an underground parlor, a place for people required to Drop Off the Earth Quick, and Shane was restyled and fixed up to just look like Another Guy. No more normal clothes; Shane Madej was now making use of jean and leather jackets, dark jeans and bright sneakers. His hair was trimmed and dyed and he was nearly unrecognizable once his face was shielded by sunglasses.

They entered The Grey Eagle offices, a low-key motel with fifteen rooms and a high tolerance for sketchy figures. Ryan paid in cash and Shane didn't speak. They were given Room 13, a room whose door was around the back of the building, the only room that cars from the road couldn't see. It was perfect.

They spent the night crafting new identities and planning a motel route, divvying out gas money as needed.

And it felt like nothing could ever go wrong again.


End file.
